Started with a Storm
by kanryd
Summary: /Riddle Era/ A retelling of Riddle's years at Hogwarts, along with the people he met, and how a playground bully started the darkest war the wizarding world had ever known. This is astory that started with a storm, for sometimes, things are simpler than we make them out to be. (The story is purely fictional, and I own no characters previously mentioned by JKR.)
1. Chapter 1

He was nothing divine, but he looked like he could be.

She watched him often, although she tried not to. It was a real sadness, that try as she may, her eyes always followed him. Her obsession was often rewarded by cursory glances in her general direction, a polite word of apology when he ran into her, (that one time, near the library, she'd almost fainted,) and by curt nods during their prefect duties. She was sure that he did not know her name. Luckily for her, all that was soon about to change.

Almost magically.

/

He had seen her before, he thought as he spied her form dawdling by the Great Lake. She was a Slytherin, yes, but she seemed to be one of those quiet ones, the kind which associated with Hufflepuffs, and on finding themselves in the Slytherin common room, weren't entirely sure how they got there. She was in his year, wasn't she, and in all his classes, too? She was his fellow prefect, he remembered, surprised, albeit mildly, (He was a 'capital K' King, so not much could surprise or amuse him, as it wouldn't do for a King to be surprised.) His surprise had found basis in the fact that she looked quite _unexceptional_. She didn't look anything special, unlike him, who nursed a regal brow with equally regal hands. What was her name? Why could he not remember? Tabitha? No, Belinda, he decided. It wasn't her real name, he was sure, but he decided to name her that in his own World. If anything, he thought, she should be flattered, for Belinda meant 'Beautiful Snake' and she was more along the lines of 'Awkward Snake'. He closed his book and fixed his eyes on 'Belinda' who, he was sure, was unaware of his presence and his attention. And silently, he watched.

/

It was all she could do to not faint. There he was, a few hundred or so meters away, and he was looking at _her_. Fervently, she thanked her lucky stars that she'd bothered to comb her dull hair and coerced them into shining mildly. Her cheeks were red, thanks to the miniature storm she'd charmed up, (out of thin air, too! Charms was her best subject,) but she was sure that he couldn't see them from his perch. However, she decided, it wouldn't do to have Tom Riddle's attention and not impress him. She was quite talented, although shyness prevented her from showcasing her potential to the public. Surely, she thought, Riddle would appreciate wandless magic? She stopped pacing, (or awkwardly pacing,) as if she'd made up her mind- Tucking her wand into her hair (while she discreetly charmed it to look a shade darker,) she looked at her miniature snow storm.

And snapped her fingers.

The wind instantly died down and she saw her observer's posture change- he'd sat up a bit straighter.

She now had his full attention.

She didn't fancy him, she knew that. She was just a _little_ obsessed. However, her miniscule obsession demanded that she make the most of her (rarer than bezoars) opportunity.

And so she did.

/

He was stunned into silence. The girl, Belinda, wasn't in fact as unexceptional as she looked. Wandless magic at 16? That too, of such an advanced nature? Even _he_ hadn't gotten that far. She was probably Merlin-descended, he thought as he saw her flushed cheeks lose their redness, (now that she'd done away with her magnificent snow storm.)

She was thinking again and he wanted to know what- it was a pity that he couldn't use Legilimency as that would alert her to his presence. And Merlin knows, that's the last thing that he wanted. He watched as she loosened her stance, put a fist forward, (it was a small fist, as she had small hands,) and uncurled her fingers.

Her hand was afire. It shone inhumanely blue, and lit up her dark eyes. She smiled, and blew at her hand making the fire go out at once. He blinked and pondered.

What magic was this? What magic was _she_?

/

He'd let out an inaudible gasp, and she knew that she would never again be invisible to him. She wasn't surprised, for not many could master such magic (actually only a tiny fraction could,) and that too, at only sixteen, (she would be seventeen in two months' time, though.) She brushed her hair out of her face and set off towards the castle, making sure to walk by a certain tree, under which a certain Prefect sat, (now, she was certain, in awe of her.)

/

She was on her way to the castle, and he had full plans to talk to her. Hastily, he packed his book bag and pulled out a quill. Murmuring a quick spell, he watched it turn into a green scarf. He wrapped it around his neck, (he had full plans to offer it to her, so as to make a great impression,) and brushed the twigs out of his hair. She was very close now. Close enough for him to see her round face clearly. Her eyes sparkled, he noted, with happiness. He wasn't surprised, as anyone would be happy at having achieved such complex magic. However, it was her smirk which disturbed him. It was very Slytherin, and frankly, it made her Hufflepuff-ish appearance seem bestial. Somehow, looking as cunning and smug as she could did nothing to improve her looks. He didn't think much of it, though he'd heard the same being said about him. But no, her smirk, which belied a cunning mind, still disturbed him. How could anyone who looked so unexceptional be so, well, exceptional? He felt like a fool, and he hated that. He looked at her face again, He knew she'd look at him- he was hard to ignore, after all. And look she did.

With a smirk gracing her eyes more than her mouth. He knew, then, that he wasn't as inconspicuous as he'd thought. She'd known about his presence all along. The very thought colored his cheeks the softest shade of pink.

/

It was all her new-found confidence could do to keep her from wincing at the sound of his approaching footsteps.

"Hello." He said, pleasantly, as he fell into step with her.

She was sure that she'd seen anger line his brow when she'd glimpsed at him, so such pleasant behavior was slightly strange. But she wasn't going to complain.

Oh, Merlin's pants! _Tom Riddle_ was talking to her!

"Hi." She said, half shyly, half confidently. She was braver now that she knew that she'd impressed him but not brave enough to mention it.

"We have prefect duty together, do we not? Yet we have never spoken like friends."

"Yes." She replied. What else was she to say?

"And what do they call you?"

What a strange way of asking her name.

" Rue Lane." She whispered. She'd been sure that he didn't know her name, but having him confirm that idea was another thing entirely.

"Rue. I like it. I'm Tom Riddle, by the way."

"I know." She blurted out, instantly regretting it. If he didn't know her, was she not creepy for knowing him?

Luckily, _he_ saved her from the embarrassment.

"Yes, I'm horrible with names, so you must forgive me my lapse of memory. It is rather inconvenient, and I suppose, rude." He spoke, his eyes fixed on her.

"Yes." She answered. Wasn't honesty the best policy?

He laughed at that, though. She didn't have the heart to tell him that she wasn't joking.

"I noticed your little snow storm, you know, Where did you learn such advanced magic, that too, wandless?"

/

And he'd brought it up. A part of him almost applauded his courage, but the other part frowned upon his shrewd question. His motives were crystal clear. He regretted it almost immediately, which was something very rare, for Tom Riddle regretted very little. He was sure she'd never tell, now that his actual motive for talking to her was clear. Still, maybe the situation could be salvaged.

"I mean, it really was fascinating. I still have a little trouble with non-verbal spells, so I'm really in awe."

 _Please buy it_ , he thought.

"I don't know, I suppose it just comes naturally to me. I've never had any trouble with it." She answered, her wide-eyed gaze meeting his.

"Really? But you look so unexceptional." He said, without thinking.

Now he'd done it. He saw her eyes turn cold and narrow, and suddenly, it was as if a chill had descended upon them.

"Well then, maybe you're the subpar one, seeing that you pass incorrect judgement, can't do non-verbal magic well, and, I'm sure, are perfectly incapable of noticing that wandless magic isn't that hard, seeing as all of us manage to do it before we even get wands!" She sneered.

Did she just call _him_ unexceptional? The heir of Salazar Slytherin?

"I'm sorry, but do you-" He started, but was cut off by the fact that she'd, (magically,) conjured snowballs to pelt at his face as she literally stormed towards the castle, with snowflakes and tempests rioting at her feet.

Perhaps, it truly did come naturally to her, almost _too_ naturally. In a way, that explained the degree of offense taken.

Well done, Tom, he thought, well done indeed.

/


	2. Chapter 2

\\\

"The _nerve_ of that boy!" Eileen shrieked. Rue had just regaled her with the tale of her encounter with Riddle, and it was a testament to their friendship that Eileen felt outraged, too.

"I hate how good-looking people think they can get away with anything."

"And I have prefect duty with him _tonight_." Rue whined. She hated the boy and was now adamant on avoiding him. How could she ever have wanted to impress him? She never wanted to speak to him again, but that would be hard seeing that they both has patrols together.

"Switch with someone. Speak to Potter." Eileen suggested.

She supposed that she _could_ speak to Charlus Potter, the Head Boy, about it. But the thing was, Slytherin and Gryffindors hated each other on principle- why would he listen to her? She voiced these concerns to Eileen, who, it turned out, begged to differ.

"He may hate you, but he's bound to help a girl in need. Their lame Gryffindor values include chivalry, remember? And they're so obsessed with being heroes- he won't pass up a chance like this."

Rue pondered Eileen's words. Gryffindors did have a strangely prevalent saviour complex- surely, she could exploit it just a bit?

"But Riddle-" She began.

"Will never find out. He and Potter don't exactly gossip in the same circles," (it was common knowledge that these two gossiped _enough_ , just not together,) "so just be discreet about it." Eileen finished.

And that was how she found herself walking towards the Gryffindor table just moments before dinner began. Everyone was settling in and Riddle was nowhere to be seen, so the odds were in her favor. Spotting Potter's (messy, oh so messy,) shock of black hair, she scurried towards it.

"A word, Potter." She murmured, tapping his shoulder. She didn't get the customary dirty looks that Gryffindors had reserved for Slytherins- clearly, her camaraderie with the Hufflepuffs paid off.

Charlus Potter smiled wryly and followed her into the Great Hall.

Quickly, she explained her demand, or plea to be precise. And just as quickly, he agreed. Eileen had been right. Charlus Potter, being a Gryffindor, was so determined to save her from that 'good-for-nothing' Riddle that he himself would patrol with her, while Riddle would patrol with the Head Girl, Mary Wilks.

She had successfully managed to avoid Riddle.

And that was that.

/

Tom had mixed feelings about this _switch_ that Potter had mentioned. He sure was glad that he didn't have to face Lane, for she'd be expecting a proper apology and he hadn't bothered to think one out yet. He certainly wasn't willing to awkwardly patrol with her, (although Kings were _never_ awkward, and _everybody_ knew that,)- it would only worsen the situation, yes.

On the other hand, his ego wasn't taking it well. Hating him was one thing, but surely, _no one_ in his or her right mind would reject _his_ company? Outrageous really, as walking with Him was a privilege, awarded to so few, and to have someone reject it, was, like he thought, outrageous.

Even if that someone seemed to be extraordinary- Merlin, especially if that someone was extraordinary, for talent flocked to talent, and she should've thus flocked to _him._

He pondered upon such things while he walked with the (quite dull) Head Girl. she was like the others that way, it was as if they had no individual personality- all of them acted the same around him. They'd shyly tuck their hair behind their ears, barely make eye contact, blush, blush and blush- Heavens, even Rue had done this.

However, he grudgingly noted, she was also the only one who'd insulted him _and_ walked away. He thought it impressive, but voiced these musings to no one, for the last thing he wanted was for his clique to start insulting him, in order to impress him. He decided to talk to her the next day, in potions. She sat next to Yaxley, but Yaxley was one of his knights, (of Walpurgis,) so he'd be done away with easily. Tom knew that Yaxley considered him, (Tom,) his first priority, as was appropriate- NEWTs, of course, came next. Sitting with Lane probably didn't even feature on the list.

"Slytherin is faring well this year- In Quidditch, I mean." Wilks said, shyly of course. Why were girls shy around him all the time? It wasn't like he was going to kill them, not on school premises.

"Yes, we may win again this year." He replied curtly.

Was Lane on the team? He wasn't sure. It was almost impressive how inconspicuous she'd been for six years.

"I don't think so. Charlus and I are confident that Gryffindor will win." Wilks smiled. Riddle knew that she'd intended for it to be a smirk, but we all know how well that works for Gryffindors.

"You would. As Gryffindors, it is your duty to be proud and pompous to the point of stupidity." He murmured in response.

She laughed at that. He wasn't in the mood to tell her that he hadn't been joking.

"You're a funny one, Riddle."

No, I'm not, he thought, I'm really not. "Yes." He replied, unsmiling. Luckily, she took the hint and _finally_ dropped the conversation. He was sure that she thought that they'd been flirting, and that she'd run back to her dorms, tell her friends, and expect him to maintain the banter.

They _always_ did that. And then, they'd all be disappointed when he wouldn't even look in their general direction.

Gryffindor girls sure made a poor example of the Gryffindor-Slytherin prejudice. They probably expected that they would be the ones to tame the 'wild and dark' creatures of the night. Idiotic romantics, the bunch of them.

However, by the end of patrolling, at the prefect meeting, he decided that Gryffindor boys weren't much better, if Charlus Potter's arm, slung around _Rue Lane,_ was any indication.

/

For one, Charlus Potter did not think that Rue was unexceptional. She had been scared of how Riddle might react- he seemed to be the kind who didn't take any kind of rejection well. Not that _she'd_ rejected _him,_ only his _company._ It was a fine surprise when she saw his blank faced reaction to the swap. A non-responsive Riddle was better than a, well, angry, responsive one- that was for certain. A few minutes later, Potter had dismissed the meeting and set off down the corridor, with her following in a haste. She shot one last look towards Riddle, only to find him hastily look away. He couldn't have figured it out, surely? He wasn't _that_ brilliant. (Was he?)

Rue was fretting over this when, a few minutes later, Charlus initiated conversation.

"So, what happened with Riddle? Even he looked slightly uncomfortable." He began, conversationally.

She looked around before speaking. Charlus had made sure that Riddle and Wilks weren't even patrolling on the same floor. Confiding in him seemed like an okay option, and she was already friends with Hufflepuffs, so it wasn't as if she could sink any lower.

"He's, well, he's a total git to people. I just called him out on it. I mean, I'm not scared of him or anything like that, but he has this aura that kind of makes you uneasy." She answered.

Charlus nodded darkly, "I know what you mean. Personally, I've never liked him much."

"That's surprising, isn't it? A Gryffindor not liking a Slytherin?" Rue laughed.

Charles nudged her playfully and smiled, "You know I'm not like that! I'm nice enough to you, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are. You've done me a kindness and I am not one to forget."

"You're an unusual Slytherin."

"No, I'm not. Not really. Some Slytherins actually just choose to not socialize outside of their inner circle as they can't stand it when they're judged, just because they're Slytherin- as if it's a bad thing. I mean, we love being Slytherin- we think it's amazing fun, but you lot do not agree."

"You have a point." Charles conceded, "I've noticed that, you know. That's why I make it a point to not be rude or unkind to your house. House rivalries apart, you're still people."

Rue smiled at that. It was nice talking to Charlus, even if his opinion of Slytherin seemed a little patronising. He put people at ease, unlike Riddle, who made for more uncomfortable company than a mandrake.

"What did you and Riddle fight about, though? I won't gossip, I swear." Charlus whispered, as they turned around a corner.

Rue laughed again. The anecdote would not even make for good gossip. Walking with him, she recited the tale once more. Charlus didn't comment at first. His eyes were wide, as though he was pondering very hard over something. It was after they'd rounded another corner that he finally spoke.

"Riddle is truly an arse. You look nothing unexceptional- no one does." He commented, smiling at her and ruffling her hair. She smiled and closed her empty fist. However, when she opened it, it was no longer empty. A fiery lion now sat in the middle of her palm, no bigger than a baby rat, roaring as the fire crackled.

"Just because you've been so kind." She murmured, as she saw Charlus' face light up (literally too, because of the fire in her hands.)

"Can I touch it?"

"Sure, the fire is cold and does not burn."

He slowly stroked the lion and laughed as it responded to his touch. It jumped playfully, trying to get a grip on his finger. It was a pleasant scene to watch.

"Rue Lane, you're freaking brilliant, no matter what that oaf thinks." Charlus laughed. Rue joined in and, closing her fist once more, transfigured the fire into a badge and gave it to him.

"To newfound friendship."

"Which will outlive eternity."

"And break down all prejudice." she laughed.

"That's much too hopeful. Be realistic, Ms. Lane." Charlus smiled. He'd meant it as a joke, but they both knew, deep down, that it was true. However, youth was so fleeting, and Rue would be damned if she wasted hers dwelling on reality.

They spent the next two hours talking about Charlus' life, while he sported his new golden badge on his cloak's lapel.

By the end of their rounds, at the prefect meeting, it could be safely said that they were good chums. He had his arm slung around her shoulder, and they laughed blithely as they chatted with the other prefects, (the meeting was yet to start, as some of the prefects hadn't turned up yet) and rue didn't even notice Tom Riddle brooding in a corner, flanked by a couple of his cronies, frowning slightly when he noticed the latest addition to Potter's attire, and more importantly, to his clique.

/


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** **Hey guys so I'm basically updating after a year and I'm reallyyy sorry for that. Like I don't even know how many of you are even reading this or were disappointed that I all but abandoned it. But I absolutely promise to update diligently now, and by that I mean, at least weekly. This is my first fanfic and the response to it really means a lot to me. Thanks and i hope you like it! XX-K**

\\\

"Interesting switch of patrols yesterday, yes?"

Tom watched as Potter practically jumped at the sound of his voice. Perhaps, he was just surprised, but for all his bravado, Gryffindor's Golden Boy seemed quite easy to startle.

"Good morning, Riddle. I didn't notice you there behind me." Charlus replied after gaining his composure.

"Of course, you didn't. But don't dwell on it, we all have our flaws, and that's what makes us _precious little snowflakes_." Tom smirked. "However, as great as the morning is, it would be better if I could know why the patrols were switched." He knew that it wasn't right for his reputation to mess with the Head Boy, but it wasn't as if the proud git would ever admit to being offended. Unlike Rue, he mused, who'd rather be dramatic than maintain a reputation.

"Look Riddle, it was just a move to encourage and promote inter-house fraternising. Nothing more, nothing less. The Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry is qualitatively the greatest. So, I decided to start there."

 _As if_.

"Is that so?" Tom mused, rubbing his chin, (he did so gently though, for he had sensitive skin, and discoloration didn't become him.)

Charlus nodded and smiled at him.

 _As fucking if_.

It was time, Tom decided, to get the conversation over with. They'd walked up the staircases for a bit, but they were quickly approaching the fifth floor where he had class, and he'd be damned if _Snowflake Potter_ would be the reason for his tardiness.

Moreover, and more importantly, he was _bored_.

"Well, then I hope that you wouldn't mind switching the routine back to the old one just for tonight. I've had a bit of a misunderstanding with Ms. Lane, and I'd like to sort it out. I don't mean to stand in the way of _inter-house fraternising_ , but I'm sure you'll agree, that it is just as important for Ms. Lane and me to be on cordial terms."

Charlus Potter frowned at him.

Good, he thought, Mr. Potter must realise that not everything goes the way he, or for that matter, Lane wants it to. _They_ are not Kings.

"I don't see why you can't make amends on your own time, Tom." The Head Boy replied.

 _Tom_?

But that wasn't the least of his concerns. What bothered him was the statement about his personal time. His _own_ time. That was the _limit_. Whose time was being devoted to the patrols he did, if not his? He could've been training the Knights, if he hadn't been put in the employ of the school, to do work that simple charms could do.

"Well, Potter, I think you'll find that my _own_ time is devoted to patrols, and keeping up with my education. At the request of Professor Slughorn, I also have to tutor my peers and ensure that they too, excel. Over and above that, I'm trying to mend bridges while undertaking Prefect duty, but you will not allow me to do so. Instead, you want me to spend hours every night fending off Wilks' advances. Some Head Boy you are!"

Perhaps his seething rage had leaked into his words, but he didn't mind for its impact was evident. Potter was clearly stunned, and was about to start fumbling for words.

"Riddle, I-I need you to-" He started, but alas, they'd reached the fifth floor, and their time was done.

So cutting him off, Tom sneered, "Figure it out, Snowflake. I'll see you tonight."

And just for a dramatic flare, he _Finite_ -d Rue's lion badge into nothingness, deciding that magic like that was wasted on Potter's cloak.

It was only when he sat down at his desk, did he consider that he'd perhaps been a bit too dramatic about the whole situation. Maybe, he really would have to persuade Lane directly.

He sighed, and directed his gaze towards her, the source of this bother.

 _If only she didn't look so mundane_.

/

"Interesting switch of patrols yesterday, yes?"

Rue jumped in her seat, turning around to see Riddle next to her, in Yaxley's seat. She should've known that he wouldn't let it go, and that he would sound as cool and collected as he did, as if he didn't care.

 _As fucking if._

Had this been any other day, Rue would have jumped into the conversation. Talking to a man as talented and charming as Riddle was a true dream. However, being called _unexceptional_ had put things into perspective. She sighed and returned her attention to her cauldron, hoping that Riddle would get the message.

 _He did not._

"Ignoring me won't make me, or my question, go away." He smirked.

Maybe so, but a girl could hope.

"Lane, Riddle is talking to you." Whispered Hestia Nott, from behind.

Rue turned around, astounded. Did Hestia Nott, the resident idiot, (she wasn't actually, but anger can make even the kindest people devastatingly unkind,) really think that she had no idea that Riddle was talking to her?

"Is that so?" She replied.

Hestia nodded and pointed at Riddle, "Yeah."

"Well then, be a dear and tell him that I don't want to talk to him, since he clearly isn't getting the message from me. Who knows, maybe he'll listen to you." Rue sneered, turning back around.

"Bitch." Hestia muttered, while Riddle laughed softly.

"You know, Lane, I did get the message. However, you didn't get _my_ message, did you? I fully intend on having this conversation, regardless of how dramatic you choose to be."

 _Dramatic_ , did he say? It was rich, coming from him.

"Is that so, Riddle? I'm being dramatic, am I?" She whispered.

He smiled in response. Any other day, she'd have been charmed, but today, her _sheer mundanity_ had no intention of playing nicely. She realised that she'd broken her promise to Eileen, to not talk to Riddle, but dire consequences called for dire action.

"Well then, if I'm dramatic now, what would you call me if I, hypothetically of course, thought so highly of myself that I gave my friend circle a most pretentious name? Maybe something like, I don't know, Knights of Walpurgis?"

"Bitch." He seethed, inconspicuously, (or so he thought,) stomping his foot.

/

How did _she_ know?

And how dare she call him _dramatic_! He was the Heir of Slytherin, and if his followers wouldn't have a name, then who would?

"I don't expect you to understand the importance of a name in an organisation, and the value that it holds. However, I would advise you, as your superior, to not discuss things you know nothing about."

He noticed her roll her eyes at him, as if she was expecting that sort of a response.

"How are you my superior, Riddle?" She asked.

It was amazing, but not surprising, that of all that he said, she only cared about his comment about her relative aptitude. It seemed as if she'd taken his earlier comment to heart. He'd hoped that that was not the case, as it would have saved him an apology, and he did hate apologizing. He never meant any of them, but they meant a great deal to others, and so it was important for him to be generous with them.

"You'll get an answer to that, but only if you are willing to put yesterday behind us. I made a comment in poor taste. Ignore it for what is was- a waste of words,"

"Is that supposed to be an apology?" She whispered, slicing plant roots into delicate strips and passing them to him. He put them into the potion, one by one. He had practiced the potion beforehand and thus, didn't need to pay it much attention in class.

Grabbing the ladle, he stirred clockwise, "Do you consider it one?" He certainly didn't, but there was the smallest chance that she'd be satisfied, (deep down, he knew that the possibility of that was non-existent,) and so he wanted to give it a shot.

She just looked at him in bewilderment.

He sighed. _Of course_.

"Well, I'm sorry, Lane. I was rude. Move on now." He drawled.

"Unbelievable." She whispered.

Well, he was, yes. "Thanks." He replied with a small smile.

"What? No, Riddle, that was not a compliment!"

He shrugged. As far as he was concerned, she'd come around. She began shaking her head in disbelief, but he turned to her and held it in place. He didn't usually act this cordial with his fellow students, (and thus, understandably, most of his peers were keenly watching their exchange,) but he had a good feeling about Rue Lane.

She liked him- he could sense so, as her cheeks warmed at his touch.

And people who liked him never opposed him.

And if someone that powerful was keen to comply, he would make the most of it.

"Join me for lunch, and tell Potter to switch back the routines. I think they'll be far more interesting, then." He smirked, packing up his things as the bell rang.

He poured an ounce of the potion into a flask, and handed it to her (fuming) self.

He was almost out the door, when he heard he mutter under her breath,

"Un-fucking-believable."

/


End file.
